Esme and Lorca at Lovebox.
In yesterday's Observer, Phil Hogan wrote a great piece about the rise of the fortysomething festival, following a trip to Latitude. With a bill involving Soul II Soul, Blondie and Sly and the Family Stone, no-one could say that Saturday at the Lovebox shindig in London's Victoria Park was pitched at the youth. But it was the first festival this writer has taken his children to.
So that picture, above, is of Esme and her friend Lorca. They enjoyed themselves, and so did I when the bloke in the pants revealed that by day, he works for the Financial Times. Lovebox bangs on about being child-friendly, and you can there's a market for parents who can't face the trials of Glastonbury, say, encumbered by their kids. Better, though, was the fact that my two - in years to come, if they turn out to be music bores, like their father - can say that they saw Sly Stone play. My shoulders are still aching from having Sam, as below, hoisted on my shoulders throughout his set. Sean O'Hagan didn't much enjoy the first date of Sly's comeback tour in Italy, but on Saturday, he did enough. 'He looked like rat, when scurried on stage,' said the junior critic in the family. 'But he was good.' Who else would make a great first gig?
Sly Stone on the big screen at Lovebox.
Sam Llewellyn Smith gets the measure of Sly.
